Page 31 of Dagger in the Sea

“What? Yes.” His voice came out lower than usual.

I sang the lyrics as we moved, our hips meeting, sliding against each other.Dear Lord.

“What’s the song saying?” he asked.

“Se thélo—it means, I want you.”

“Hmm.” His hand gripped mine tighter, his fingers spread out over my back.

“You’re a game of the gods…”

“A game of the gods,” he repeated. He stroked my back, just above the slope of my rear, making an ache unwind inside me.

“The way the current hits…” I continued translating, my voice rougher than usual. “I’m drowning, but I’m not leaving. That’s how I want you. At the edge of my life’s cliff, come and be the end. Finish me off.”

Cliff indeed. That’s exactly how I felt right now, that breathless rush at hurtling toward the edge of a cliff.

“Ah, poetry,” he murmured.

“Welcome to Greece,” I replied.

He glanced over my shoulder, something had caught his attention. Or someone. I slid my hand around his neck, and his head snapped to mine.

“Is she there?” I asked

A slight scowl crossed his features. A scowl sliding into that brittle, teasing grin. “Who?”

“The woman you were—”

“There’s only you,” he breathed against my ear.

My heartbeat skidded. His lips took mine. Warm, demanding. Possessive. He released me much too quickly, and clinging to him, I struggled to catch my breath, licked at my bottom lip where his heat had just been.

“What is your name?”

He rubbed a thumb across my burning lip. “Turo,” he whispered.

“Turo?”

His focus remained on my mouth. “Short for Arturo.”

“Ah.” Italian, he didn’t look Italian, yet—

He bent his head to mine and his citrusy, musky scent filled my senses. I knew that cologne. That was Italian. His lips stole up my throat like warm silk. He nipped at my earlobe, his breath fanning my face, the side of my neck.

“And your name?” His voice was suddenly urgent. A gentle command. As if my answer would give him the keys to a mystery that he needed to solve.

“Adriana.”

He stilled. I let go of a tiny breath as his hands gently cradled my face, his jaw easing. “Adriana.”

Our bodies moved to the music once more, as if on their own, in a hypnotic trance. But I wasn’t in a trance, I was very, very aware of his keen attentiveness, his subtle yet firm touch. I felt like I was on the edge of that cliff Hatzigiannis was singing about, and Turo would push me off any second with that smile on his face. I was suspended there between wanting to run away and wanting to see over the edge of Turo’s cliff.

The music gradually changed its beat from languorous and sensual to a more throbbing, tribal rhythm. The party gods were being summoned. People had seeped all over the terrace. Laughter and excited chatter floated in the air. We were in the thick of the throng. The DJ had begun his show, and the crowd was excited, moving to every beat he generated. Lights flashed, the wind blew at the blood colored canopies over us. The club was packed, more so than before. How hadn’t I noticed?

Turo’s eyes flashed at me, that quick, crooked grin making him look younger yet more jaded all at the same time. A stunning combination on his handsome features. He pulled me in closer once more and that thrill of risk made my heart pound harder. Like skydiving. I was at the edge of the open plane door, taking my final breath before—

After tonight I’d never see Turo from America again, would I?

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